Apoptosis
by Tyndall Blue
Summary: Edward Elric is a prodigy in the realm of biomedical science, pursuing Gene Therapy with a passion bordering on obsession.  He's come to seek the support and funding of LysoTech's Genomic Therapy program, under the direction of Dr. Roy Mustang.  Roy/Ed
1. Chapter 1

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Written for livejournal's fma_slashfest for the prompt of Roy/Ed, Modern Day AU with Edward of legal age. I had an unexpected amount of fun writing this, and I have every intention of continuing it at lease one more chapter. I'm sorry for the the lateness, but a couple of unexpected RL emergencies popped up. Also, this is probably way off the target for what the OP wanted. It's un-beta'ed, so bear with any typos.

Apoptosis ( /ˌæpəˈtoʊsɪs/)is the process of programmed cellular death (PCD) that may occur in multicellular organisms.

Roy Mustang took one last look in the mirror, pulling back his lips in a mock snarl. His tongue probed the back of his teeth experimentally. Damnit. He could've sworn he could feel something stuck there from lunch. The spinach salad was his prime suspect. Though he found nothing, paranoia drove him to dig floss from the pockets of his charcoal slacks. He was interviewing fellowship candidates, and it wouldn't do to have spinach appear while demanding to know why they were deserving of a position from the mighty LysoTech.  
>He was right, there was something hiding in there. The dark-haired man grinned, running his tongue over his teeth once more in victory, and smoothed down the trim front of a black vest that matched his hair.<p>

"Dr. Roy Mustang, you are one intimidatingly handsome bastard," he quipped, pointedly ruffling his bangs so they fell in a decidedly roguish manner. Behind him, a flush echoed through the room and his back stiffened. Quickly, Roy busied himself with washing his hands a second time, fumbling with the soap and the damn automatic faucet wouldn't kick on. He cursed under his breath as the stall door swung open and a stocky, blonde strode out, still fastening up his brown leather belt. He didn't even grant Roy a look as he began to wash his hands next to him. The taller man relaxed and looked over this intruder casually, quirking a manicured eyebrow at the uncoventional golden fall of hair restrained in a high ponytail, and drifting over the broad shoulders that pulled at the bright red shirt, and followed it down to where it tucked into the slim waist of pressed khaki slacks. Very interesting.

As he realized that he was standing with his hands in an empty sink, he noticed the distinct sensation of being watched. His gaze jerked upwards and he found himself nearly level with gold eyes that were as piercing and corrosive as molten sulfur he had handled in basic chemistry. With fierce determination he fought back the urge to stammer and bolt, instead he once more raised an eyebrow while quelling a flush at such scrutiny. For good measure he stuffed his still damp hands into his pockets and canted forward his hips in an especially confident pose. The eyes left his shortly and did a quick assessment as Roy continued to appraise the new face.

He couldn't be more than 21, probably got separated from a college tour group. he recalled there being a few on the schedule for today. Long lashes dipped briefly over the intense eyes as he took in even Roy's shoes, softening his profile into one that could almost be female if it weren't for the strong jawline and the patches of missed stubble. Who the hells has eyes that color anyways? Roy was jerked from his reverie once again, this time by a snort and those thin lips pulling into a smirk.

"Eh, you're ok," he tossed casually, brushing past Mustang for the paper towels. The infamous Roy Mustang, youngest Director of Research and Discovery in LysoTech history at a juvenile 34, was left speechless and in shock by a college student as he cackled out of the bathroom. Perhaps this day wouldn't be so great after all.

He soothed himself by flirting with the pretty, new young thing they had placed at reception. The wide open space of the lobby didn't hurt either, the fronds of the exotic palm trees giving it a mocking feeling of nature. To his further delight, on the way back to his office, he passed a tour group consisting of a chemistry sorority admiring the hallway of what Roy affectionately referred to as "dead white guys," that controlled the company. His heart was practically singing as Rose, their PR guide, stopped and began to excitedly detail his position and accomplishments.

"Dr. Mustang has recently been promoted to Director of Discovery and Research after his accomplishments in the founding of our Genomic Therapy department. Choosing to leave the lab and join administration is just one of many ways you can advance your career at LysoTech," she beamed as Roy's Blackberry began to ding at him in the most infuriating way possible. He makes an apologetic frown at the dainty red-head he was making eyes with, and silences it. Balls.

"And speaking of career advancement, I'm afraid I have to excuse myself to conduct some interviews. My sincerest apologies, ladies. Enjoy the rest of your tour," he beamed, resisting the urge to take one last glance.

With his mood restored, he now felt he could handle several hours of needy new doctors groveling for his mercy. Briefly, he admired the glossy letters of his name, before he swung open the door to beam at the stony face of his secretary.

"Good a-," he started.

"You're late, sir," she deadpanned in a tone that would make a lesser man's testicles seek refuge inside his body. Roy was non-plussed, merely frowning slightly, bottom lip jutting in a pout. "Dr. Elric is waiting for his interview in your office. I hope you've sufficiently review the applicant portfolio I collected for you on his work, so you won't be wasting everyone's time," she clipped, her light brown eyes held his level. He had inherited her services from the previous director after he had retired, and he strongly suspected the man of having a masochistic streak. Personally, he found Riza's particular brand of administrative assistance, while efficient, very frightening. He attempted to give her desk wide berth without appearing to do so.

"I'm very sorry for the wait, Dr. Elric," he cheered. "I hope you haven't been waiting too long." The diplomatic smile froze on his face. Whoever the good Dr. was, was seated in his chair, the high back obscuring them from view. His spinach salad and chicken sandwich churned in his gut, already he had lost control of the situation. "It's good to see you've made yourself at home," he hesitated, noting that his folder of interview materials were gone from the top of the desk. Slowly, the high back chair swivelled to face him, it's occupant engrossed in a magazine selected from the folder. It was divine intervention that stopped Roy from stroking out, then and there, and God's grace struck him again to give him the patience to utter a slow sentence.

"If you would take a more appropriate seat, we can begin the interview," he gritted. Amber eyes flocked up to meet his, and Roy strode over to stand before the chair.

"Sure," the younger man quipped, tossing the magazine and folder back onto the desk that Riza had straightened for him during lunch. He stretched and straightened, his back cracking audibly as he hoisted himself from it's deep leather recesses. Roy took his own seat, resisting the urge to throw the application into the trash now instead of after the blonde had left. Dropping into the chair opposite the desk, he took an equally insouciant posture, legs spread, shirt slightly rumpled, feathered bangs falling free from the severe ponytail and framing his defiant face. Despite himself, Roy was suddenly self-conscious of his own severe posture.

"So, do your parents know you're not in school?" he purred. A childish voice in him was pleased to chime that if the interviewee wasn't taking this seriously, then neither was he. The young man visibly bristled, back shooting ramrod straight and jaw clenching.

"Shut up, old man! I'm here for a job! If you're just gonna jerk me around, I'll just go," he snarled with surprising vigor. Roy delicately quirked an eyebrow, thumbing the folder with curiosity before flipping it open to peruse the resume.

"Pray tell, what could someone who never even went to high school offer LysoTech?" He couldn't help but purr, leaning back in his chair and drawing the folder and magazine to him. Glancing up he saw color flushing the bridge of his nose and the pale brows tipped down with rage. His eyes casually perused the magazine, sure that he had gleaned the necessary information from the CV. He knew the trends of Dr.'s with GED's in their history. The magazine must be part of Hawkeye's research, a mainstream science periodical. The boy across from him was still attempting to bluster an explanation as he wandered what of relevance would be in here.

It was detailing the use of gene therapy, a technicolor strand of DNA twisting across sterile background, and he noted with interest in the subtitle that it was documenting on it's first successful uses. He flipped to the books marked page, where a proud research team beamed behind a lab station. The air conditioning chose at that time to kick on, sending an additional cold chill down his spine as he recognized one smirk in particular. In fact, it had been the same one that had burst his ego this morning. The next page over, he was squinting into a microscope, blonde hair bundling tightly at the nape of his neck. The caption below reading "MIT's second youngest doctoral candidate, Edward Elric, 18, at work on his collaborative project with fellow candidates." Nineteen?

As the blood left his face, he realized that the boy was still talking. A quick glance over the two page article confirmed his fears. He remembered hearing about this last year; the boy sitting in front of him had found another possible means for curing ALD by using the HIV virus in gene therapy, and that was while he was still getting his doctorate at only 19 years old. Silence.

"Dr. Elric, I feel we haven't gotten off to a proper start," he swallowed. Those golden eyes widened abruptly.

"Uh, yeah, I guess," he mumbled. Roy's mind was working overtime in the damage control lobe. He flicked idylly at a pencil. "So why are you interested in LysoTech?"

The boy was brilliant, he couldn't deny it no matter how he looked at it. Moreso, when he began to talk about chemistry he became a bearable, if not engaging, human being. If he lost him to another company, he would be laughed out of his office.

"Well, your resume is extraordinarily impressivem" he said, clearing his throat around the crow he was swallowing. "But, my concern is that perhaps you aren't a good fit for our fellowship."

"What do you mean?" Edward's body was no longer languid. He sat tense on the edge of his seat. Roy turned a pencil end over end in his hands. No, the fellowship would be agonizing for him , he would need to answer too many people. He needed room to grow and he knew just the place. Casually, he flocked through the folder once more.

"Currently we are competing for a contract using zinc finger nucleases in therapies for neurological disorders, and we are fairly confident we'll receive it so we've begun building up our staff," he bit his lower lip thoughtfully, hoping what he was about to do wouldn't bite him too hard in the ass later. "If you're interested, I would like to offer you a position as Research Scientist in our Genomic Therapy department." Roy knew he was going to regret this before the words were even out of his mouth.

"What?" Roy almost jumped to his feet with surprise at the outburst. "Of course! I'll take it!" Didn't he realize he could get practically any job he wanted?

"Excellent, I look forward to seeing the results of your work. Now, securing you a lab, staff, and the hiring process itself will take a few weeks. Someone from HR will be in touch with you to set up your drug screening and background check in a few days. On your way out, ask Ms. Hawkeye for your hiring paperwork." He swivelled in his chair, contemplating how he was going to shuffle around funds to make this position appear, and where the staff would come from. The blonde stood but did not leave, Roy looked up questioningly. His eyes were downcast and he seemed to be shuffling slightly.

"I'm sorry about earlier, Dr. Mustang," he murmured and Roy resisted laughing at this display of childish embarrassment.

"So, no hard feelings?"

"Of course not. Please, call me Roy," he said, smiling carefully. Abruptly, a hand was offered out for him to shake. He took it, trying to ignore how much larger his was, engulfing Edward's own long, thin ones, and the conspicuous lack of warmth. He froward at their joined hands when he noticed the strangeness of the texture; skin-like, but not quite skin, but the young doctor pulled his hand back quickly. "Myself and several of the scientists in your department go to the bar down the street every Thursday. You're welcome to join us, if they'll even let you in the door," he chortled. Once more, the placid face before him flushed red, before the young man made an about face and strode unevenly out of the office. He smiled to himself as he flipped open the magazine again. Just when he thought things were boring.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: It was not my intention to wait so long between chapters, but I had to start from scratch when I was robbed and my journal stolen along with the rest of the contents of my backpack. Also, I had to redo all my preliminary research as I had forgotten everything I'd learned. _; Per usual, this is unbeta'ed so please point out any glaring errors. Enjoy!

Apoptosis ( /ˌæpəˈtoʊsɪs/): the process of programmed cellular death (PCD) that may occur in multicellular organisms.

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><p>"Brother, didn't you have something you were supposed to do tonight?" Alphonse shouted from the kitchen. An intelligible noise was emitted from the limp body sprawled on the off-white couch. "Brother?" He called again, shuffling around awkwardly with a thunking cane so he could see his brother's pouting form. The fan beat awkwardly, out of time with the rain tapping the window.<p>

"It's raining. I don't wanna go," he mumbled around the pillow.

"But didn't the Director invite you? You have to!" The taller boy hobbled over, his body lean in a way that implied sickness. Reluctantly, the shorter blonde, lifted the arm from his eyes and gave him a baleful amber look. Alphonse merely peered back at him. "Brother," he pleaded. Edward groaned, swinging his legs blindly to right himself, jeans hanging loosely from his hips.

"He's such a dick, though," he whined. "And what if you need me? You just got out of the hospital," he persisted. Alphonse sighed, and found a rumpled black t-shirt that had only a minor amount of cat fur on it, throwing it at his brother.

"He can't be that bad if he gave you a job you didn't even ask for. Also, I'm fine! I got out four days ago," he smiled as Edward struggled into the thin fabric, sitting on the arm of a chair. Edward said nothing, simply working on tidying his hair with silent obedience and sulking viciously. "If it makes you feel better, look at it as a way to size up the competition while their guard is down. You're only one step up the ladder away from that independent research position," he continued. Edward grumbled his agreement before standing and patting down his pockets for wallet and keys.

"Are you sure you'll be ok without me here?" He frowned. "What if you spike a fever again or something?"

"That's the beauty of phones. I'll call the ambulance rather than risk dying in a crash with you," Alphonse said in a deceptively sweet voice. "You need to try having fun once in awhile. I don't think you've stopped working for years."

"Having fun is waste of time. I should be trying to find out how to be making you better," he muttered. The younger man's face went tight in a way that suggested this was the start of many arguments. They stood at a silent impasse, before a slender white cat came mewling beneath the sofa, twining herself around Alphonse's jean clad legs. "I won't be out long. If something changes I'll give you a call," he finished, rustling on a pale, brown bomber jacket. His brother nodded, bending slowly to pick up the cat, face still tense.

"Have fun."

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><p>What Edward had not expected was to still be there three hours later, with a pitcher of beer being passed around their collection of tables, and actually enjoying himself. It had been a larger group than he expected, between the Director and his secretary, as well as a collection of researchers and their assistants and interns. They had not been difficult to find, as they were already well into a fairly raucous night, having commandeered the small restaurant portion of the building. Roy was who he recognized first, his tie undone and hanging limp to frame a pale section of chest exposed by the undone buttons of his shirt. His face was bright red with drink, which was rather loudly being pointed out by a very tall, lanky man with narrow square glasses. Ms. Hawkeye merely sat silently, sipping a martini as she read a book. At the table behind her two interns discussed fearfully whether it would be safe to approach her.<p>

Roy's expression was one of genuine surprise when their eyes met, distracted as the blonde slid off the leather jacket and shook stray drops of rain from it.

"Dr. Elric," he grinned. "I'm glad to see you made it!" He gestured at a young woman behind the bar for a pitcher and more glasses.

"Roy, is this the snot nosed brat you were talking about?" The Director's lanky friend nearly shouted. The man leaned in close, his green eyes as scrutinizing as they could be at his level of intoxication. Roy did not look pleased when he was used to balance, but couldn't help be amused at the younger man's look of shock.

"This is Maes Hughes, the PR director," Roy muttered.

"You're right! He does look like a girl!" Roy sobered at Hughes' gleeful drunken declaration.

"I'm getting you a cab, before you do something to get yourself fired," he informed Maes above the snickering of the other employees. Edward stood there silently as Roy and the other man stumbled past him, muttering a variety of complaints.

"So you're the new kid?" A talk blonde man asked. Edward had noticed he had a remarkable ability to do anything with a cigarette in his mouth, including eating and drinking.

"I'm not a kid!" Those closest to him jumped. The tall blonde looked stunned.

"Sorry, boss. I didn't mean it that way," he muttered, looking away towards the bar where a slender brunette was preparing a tray of drinks. His expression was distinctly simpering, and the length of ash fell to his own lap, unnoticed.

Edward fumbled to introduce himself, but the majority rallied to welcome him and a drink was thrust before him with no inquiry as to his age. A portly, red-haired man next to the smoking blonde offered a vigorous hand shake.

"I'm, Breda. Ignore Havoc, Dr. Elric. He doesn't think, probably ever," he pondered, fingering a small patch of ginger hair on his chin.

"If I remember correctly, Dr. Elric is one of the youngest MIT graduates in history," said a grey-haired man with alarming rigid posture and equally stiff face. As several sets of inquiring eyes turned towards him, the blonde choked on his drink while going red in the face.

"It's not that big a deal," he stammered, attempting to deflect some of the unwanted attention. A heavy hand, probably heavier than its owner intended, came to rest on his shoulder.

"Now, now, this is not the time for work talk," Roy's baritone crooned. "For now let's welcome the newest member of our team and bask in the warm glow of companionship," he continued, slurring theatrically. Breda began to shake uncontrollably with muffled laughter, but Edward chose to drown his increasing distaste for the man with the rest of his drink. Havoc was more than happy to refill the still cold glass and seemed to even offer an apologetic expression.

"Perhaps you should've left with your friend, _Dr._ Mustang," Edward leered. The older man's face was still a cheery red as he launched himself from his handhold on his researchers shoulder and began to lurch towards a squat, square devise that made Edward's blood run cold with dawning dread. His hand blindly found the glass that Havoc had, yet again, wordlessly refilled.

"The night is still young, and so are we!" The Director cheered as he punched buttons on the screen. There were a small handful of derisive snorts at the use of we; he did not notice. "So let us sing it away!"

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><p>Karaoke aside, the evening had been overall fun. Though Edward had often heard of the lubricating effects of alcohol in social situations, he'd never really found the time or place to perform his own assessment; this particular experiment was proving to be a resounding success as he sat at a steadily emptying table with an inebriated smile. Riza had left shortly after the karaoke had begun, wanting to seek out a quieter place to read. This wasn't without offering Edward a soft genuine smile and goodbye. Breda had left with Havoc, after the latter had burst into despondent tears when his attempts at wooing the brunette from earlier had been rebuffed. A quiet boy with glasses, who almost seemed to be even younger than Edward himself, had left fairly sober with a group of friends, with the excuses of early classes. Falman, the dictionary turn stone-faced human from earlier, still sat ramrod straight at his end of the table, hands pressed around his drink. Edward sipped his own yet again and lurched his eyes about the room for Roy.<p>

The karaoke machine had been commandeered by a much more intoxicated group of coworkers not too long ago and the blonde suspected his employer had staggered to the bathroom to mope.

"Falman, that's your name right? Falman?" Edward queried with what he hoped was a friendly, not drunken smile. The man nodded brusquely and efficiently. "Are you waiting to give Dr. Mustang a ride home?" The man nodded again.

"It's alright; I'll make sure he gets home fine." Already, Ed was standing, double checking his own balance before he released the table. "We'll catch the bus." Falman stood himself when it was apparent that Edward wasn't going to plummet face first to the floor, though he did eye the man's wobbling legs with some skepticism.

"That's very kind of you, Dr. Elric. I hope you have a good evening. I look forward to seeing you again soon." He bowed awkwardly and strode out the door. Ed couldn't help but be reminded of a Tinman.

Edward's dark-haired target came crashing through the bathroom door before the blonde even made it halfway there and stood wavering with an expression of concern and bewilderment.

"Hey, where'd they go?" He slurred. Ed blinked at him blearily and sighed.

"Home, which is where we need go," he mumbled, beginning to suspect that this good deed would be more trouble than it's worth. The taller man's perplexed expression confirmed his suspicions. He just gestured for Roy to follow and began to walk towards the door, stumbling slightly as he reached to grab his coat from the abandoned table. Perhaps those last few drinks were beginning to catch up to him. Despite this, he managed to shrug on the coat with only slightly more trouble than normal and make it outside.

Outside, however, was an entirely different drunk animal. Edward reeled at the numerous and scattered reflections of light from puddles, and even at the late hour, the sidewalk still held plenty of raucously intoxicated students. The vertigo made his stomach churn in unsettling ways. A stubborn swallow calmed the worst of it until a warm weight at his back and distractingly familiar hands made an appearance on his hips.

"So am I goin' home with you," Roy crooned next to the blonde's ear.

"Abso-fucking-lutely not!" Had he not been so far gone, Edward would have found the screech that tore from his lips mortifying. Instead he jerked forward, out of Mustang's grip and began to stalk, to the best of his ability, through the crowd to an unnecessarily flashy motorcycle a block down from the bar. The crowd was thinner here and the air cool, and breathable. Mustang followed like a lost puppy as the young man fumbled through his keys, dropping them once or twice.

"You're waaaay too drunk to drive," the man offered helpfully as the older Elric finally found his key of choice and unlocked the saddlebags after a number of misses.

"M'not driving. Alphonse keeps a couple bus cards in here," he mumbled in return as he searched through an envelope. "Here," he grumbled, shoving a card to Roy's chest, face flushed with residual embarrassment. Roy grimaced at the innocuous piece of plastic.

"The bus?"

"Well, I don't have any more cash, and I'm pretty sure you spent all of yours tipping Havoc's waitress," he clipped and zipped up his jacket against the developing chill. A sinisterly smug grin spread across the director's face.

"Yeah, I did," he chuckled and began to follow again as the blonde erratically made his way towards a corner. Edward was trying his hardest to keep his wits about him, but it was proving difficult between the vertigo, nausea, and invasive lights and sounds. As soon as they reached the sparse shelter, he sat down heavily on the bench to wait, followed very shortly by Roy.

"Who's, Alphonse?" The dark-haired man blurted, shivering slightly in his inadequately thin trenchcoat.

"S'my, brother," Edward groaned, fumbling for his phone to look at the time. "S'gonna be sooo mad at me." He whined at the time. Roy did his drunken approximation of an inquiring and curious expression but it was ignored.

"Hey, do you know the bus schedule?" He asked, turning to look at Roy with his amber, and now rather unfocused, eyes. "Motherfucker," he cursed. It would be a miracle if they made it home before the sun came up.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Yay, me! I finished another section! Warning, it's unbeta'ed. Apologies for the shortness.

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><p>Mustang was certainly no stranger to hangovers, but he'd made numerous concerted efforts to become less familiar with them. There could only be one explanation for the spectacular headache that seemed to be splitting his brain in two, Maes must've gotten him spectacularly drunk. Flashes of the night were beginning to come back to him, the clearest being those before the arrival of his new hire. He shifted around uncomfortably around and frowned at the aching pain in this lower back. He never recalled his couch being this firm and uncomfortable, or his sheets this rough. Gingerly he opened his eyes, but was relieved to find that the room was rather dim. However, this was not his home, and how did he wind up on the floor? A gentle snuffle in his ear bolted him upright to find a dainty white cat seated next to him. With a dainty mew it began to purr, flicking its wispy tail.<p>

When the room stopped spinning, he looked around the unfamiliar home. Even with his limited view from the ground between the couch and coffee table, he could see it was small in a way that could pass for cozy, with unpacked boxes still haunting the corners. The furniture looked well past second hand, full of dings and stains, and the several solid bookcases groaned under the weight of their occupants. A thoughtful blanket and pillow on the couch implied that he had at least started the evening seated out on the couch, and a glass of water and two aspirin even sat for him on the coffee table between books and numerous hair ties tangled with long, blonde hairs. The cat offered him a gentle begging nudge which he absently reciprocated while he thought. Finally, he decided that his nausea and headache outweighed his embarrassment and clambered back onto the sofa, hugging the pillow to his churning stomach. The cat, deciding he needed company jumped up next to him, kneading the pillow and purring like a jet. Sleep was merciful, swiftly stilling the spinning room.

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><p>The next time he woke, the room was much brighter as well as still, but the cat was still curled to his chest, snoring softly. An aroma of coffee and toasted bread wafted friendly and inviting through the house. Roy stretched slowly, groaning as his back crackled with the movement.<p>

"Ah, good morning, Dr. Mustang," a disturbingly cheerful voice chirped from nearby. Blinking sleep from his eyes, the rest of the room quickly came into focus; across the room in a worn and sunken armchair, sat a young man that bore a disturbing level of resemblance to his newest employee. His hair was close cut and brassy; and his eyes were a much more subdued shade of brass.

"You must be," Roy started, wading around in his murky memory. "Alphonse?" The lean man smiled endearingly.

"Would you like some coffee? There's breakfast too if you're up to it," he queried, rising from his seat with the help of a cane. Roy was beginning to wonder how someone so sweet could be related to someone so disagreeable. While Al made productive noise in the kitchen, Roy also pulled himself up, displacing his unhappy sleeping partner. After he'd taken the offering of aspirin and water, he amused himself by looking over the assortment of books spread across the coffee table.

He noted with some satisfaction that Edward had been preparing for the project he was assigned, with numerous scribbled on articles stuffed into books and folders. Several, though, were much more puzzling and obscure. Roy had picked up one such text, _Summa Perfectionis_, and must've been frowning at it heavily when Alphonse came back into the room, balancing a plate and two mugs of coffee. The blonde ducked his head slightly to look at the cover, and laughed softly.

"Ah, alchemy was Brother's first love," he murmured with amusement. Roy cracked the tome open, finally finished puzzling over the intricate leather cover, and was surprised to find the margins just as annotated as the texts related to work. Some of the wide margins held tiny, intricate circles full of symbols. "Now, it's more of a hobby," he added, sitting back down in the chair heavily. Roy joined him, taking the steaming mug gratefully, and they sat in a disturbingly companionable silence. Somewhere, between the coffee and Al's soothing company, he felt well enough to nibble on the offered breakfast, and to also feel extremely awkward about sobering up on the couch of his employee.

"I'm afraid to ask, but how did we get home?" Roy finally muttered over his rejuvenating drink.

"Well, apparently, you two were never able to figure out the bus route, so I came and picked you up at a stop," he snickered. "I have no idea how long you two were riding around before that. When I showed up, Brother was in a shouting match with a cabdriver, because he refused to take you home for free."

Roy's palm covered his face in humiliation and he muttered an apology. The young man shrugged.

"There's no need to apologize. I'm just glad that he went out and had fun like a normal person." The coffee mug clicked loudly on a small, exposed portion of the table. Roy pondered this statement briefly, his fingers coming to stroke his chin briefly. He was startled from his very intense pondering by a loud squawk that echoed from the unexplored recesses of the apartment following shortly by a loud thump.

"It sounds like Brother is awake," Alphonse said cheerfully, disregarding the enraged shouting of his name. "Excuse me." Mustang attempted to politely sip his coffee and not eavesdrop but the shouting continued, interspersed with the younger brother's muffled attempts at placation.

"You utter bastard! Where the fuck did you put my arm and leg?" Roy paused. That wasn't something you heard every day. Suddenly his coffee seemed a lot less interesting. Innocently he turned his attention to the bookshelf. He liked books. It couldn't be helped that it was conveniently closer to the hallway the shouting was coming from.

"Brother! You were too drunk and you kept trying to fight everything. I didn't want you to ruin them," Alphonse rationalized. He was answered with something that sounded like a snarl. "Calm down, I didn't hide them from you, they're right here." Oh, were those family photos hanging up in the hallway? It would be a shame to let such blackmail go to waste. From there he could hear the sounds of rummaging and Edward's distinctly quieter grumbling, and see the cracked doorway from the corner of his eye. The brief silence only heightened his curiosity, to where he was blatantly staring at the doorway.

"Hey, Alphonse," Edward asked, answered by a questioning noise. "Did you make breakfast already? What time is it?" Oddly paced footsteps approached the door and it creaked open as Alphonse hissed at him.

"Don't you remember any of last night? Dr. Mustang is here!"

"Huh?" The blonde's head was turned away from him, unaware of the older man's presence, hand still holding the doorknob. Alphonse sat on the bed looking alarmed, while their guest did his best to not openly stare.

Sometime in the night, Alphonse must have managed to strip his brother down to his boxers as he put him to bed, allowing him and unobstructed view of the metal adhered to his right shoulder and left thigh, with what appeared to be skin stretched over it, attached to small pegs. Roy had only seen things like this in horror movies. Like this, it was much easier to see the contrast between the limbs, with the young doctor's own skin a deeper tan than the synthetic counterpart. Edward followed his brothers gaze to Roy who was still stunned, and mimicked Alphonse's horrified expression. Roy registered this, and the gravity of his discovery, and degree of personal invasion, dawned on him.

"The fuck are you doing, staring at me like that?!" He cried, going red in the face. Roy saw the shift in some of the mechanical components before he saw the arm reaching for him, curling with alarming strength in the front of his shirt. He was unable to process the rest of the shouted obscenities as he was marched backwards from the home. The brother was also shouting, but it was drowned out by the tirade. He found himself suddenly shoved into the hallway.

"And stay the fuck out!" It was punctuated by the resounding slam of a door in his face. He stood there dumbly before briefly patting his pockets to check for his keys and wallet, collecting his dignity, and walking slowly from the building.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I survived the hurricane! Rejoice! Hope this also short chapter finds everyone well. We're all pretty occupied cleaning up after the wind and stormsurge. 3

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><p>Monday found Dr. Mustang seated at his desk with a grimace, attempting to choke down a mug of coffee. However his insides, twisted with anxiety, were very much against the idea. With a resigned sigh he released his shaky grip on the mug and pick up a proposal he'd been putting off since last week. It was now so past due that Riza had pointedly left open his office door and was shooting him sharp looks every half hour or so. He'd made sure to never put off work past this phase. He was terrified of what she might do. He made a valiant effort to actually read the item before him, but the words seemed to never make it to his brain. All weekend he had been mulling over his unorthodox visit to and prompt ejection from the Elric household. Part of him wanted to be mortified; both that he had gotten that drunk and so blatantly violated Edward's privacy, but the scientist in him swelled with intense curiosity. Those prostheses, what the hell were they? Why did he have them? All progress ceased when he began to envision Edward as a cyborg. He could easily picture the young man kicking through his wall with a steel foot and then reducing him to dust with his laser eyes. A loud clunk actually caused him to jump, shaking him from his fantasy. Regaining his composure and looking up, he found himself looking into Riza's very close, sherry colored eyes. She offered him a very small, very brief smile and slid a new mug across his desk.<p>

"An herbal tea, sir," she clipped. When he looked up the smile was gone. "I thought it would settle your stomach and give you the energy to finish your reviews."

"Thank you, Ms. Hawkeye," he hesitated, watching her stride back to her own desk. She looked his way one more time before returning to her own work. Roy sipped the hot drink warily, but was surprised to find it pleasantly mild without the stomach churning effects of the coffee. Whether it was the soothing properties of the drink, or the startling act of kindness from his secretary, Roy was able to briefly forget the Elric's and focus on the task at hand.

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><p>Dr. Mustang was fortunate that as director, he actually rarely had to visit the labs unless inspired to by his own curiosity. Normally, on a new hire's first day, he would make an appearance and personally welcome them, maybe even offer a tour of the wider facilities. Upon recalling the elder Elric's red, enraged face, he decided that it would be better to give the young man some space. He began to itch with boredom and impatience almost immediately, wanting something else to do now that he had slogged through all the critically late files. Kicking his chair back from the desk he paced the office a few times, earning questioning looks from the blonde at her desk. Next, he began absently polishing the knickknacks adorning his shelves before moving on to make sure that his book collection was organized by subject, then author.<p>

He turned to his desk, shifting the photos and various other ornaments idly, before flipping open his planner. Aside from a progress report and a conference call with the Director of Clinical studies later in the day, his afternoon was surprisingly free. Absentmindedly he chewed his lip in thought, thumbing the open page of the planner. With a sigh, he reached across the desk for his phone, hastily punching in a number.

"Hello, Maes?" He asked cautiously, preemptively jerking the phone away from his ear in time for Hughe's gleeful shout that made even Riza look up with curiosity.

"Roy, you're alive!" His friend laughed, making the other man grumble.

"Yeah, no thanks to you. You free for lunch?"

"Oh no, what'd you do? You killed that new kid didn't you?" Roy didn't bother dignifying that question.

"Meet me at the park. We'll go for a walk and get something from one of the carts," he clipped quickly.

"Sounds romantic, I'll see you in a bit."

Hughes stared at his dark-haired companion with a deathly serious expression as Roy attempted to find a dignified way to eat a gyro without spilling half of it down his suit.

"So your prodigy scientist guy is some sort of cyborg?" He finally choked out, not even having touched his own meal since Roy told him the story of his awkward visit to the Elric household. Roy snorted laughter through a mouthful of food. "You sure he's not gonna go all replicant on us now that you've discovered his secret?" Hughes continued, now tugging at the thin thatch of beard on his chin.

"I don't know what it was," Roy gasped after swallowing hard. "But I remember noticing that hand was cold when I shook it." Hughes nodded sagely as Roy took another bite.

"I'll see what I can find out," he said with a slight grin while Roy flustered and hurried once more to swallow his bite of food.

"Maes, I invited you to lunch to talk, not to hire you to stalk the kid," he rushed, a bit frightened by the sinister smile working across his friends face. "I mean, have you ever heard of a prosthetic that convincing? I've never seen one move so fluidly." Roy had left out the detail of the ends of the limbs where the synthetic skin was stretched like rubber to implanted clasps, as well as the frightening strength they showed when he was easily lifted from the ground. Maes was frowning again, eyes skyward as he fiddled.

"The main thing I don't understand is what possessed you to go and peek on him while he was getting dressed," his friend smirked.

"That is not what happened and you know it!" Roy balked.

"Whatever you say, Roy," Maes placated, finally biting into his sandwich. "It's not like there's a legal age for cyborgs or anything," he muttered around his food. Roy sighed heavily, regretting ever telling his friend anything.

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><p>Though he'd never admit it, talking to Maes had soothed some of Roy's worries about interacting with his new employee. After all, as the PR director pointed out, the fact that he didn't start his day with the blonde's fist in his face was a good sign. Also, it turned out to his surprise the man had made a point to stop by the lab to see how Edward's day was going. What Maes had to say pointed towards the young man being a rather capable, if not awkward, leader. Aside from some ruffled feathers due to the blonde's surly personality, the day had passed without much incident. Perhaps it was his thoughts about the young man that caused Roy to pass by his new lab on the way back to his office, but he couldn't resist peeking through the small glass window. Roy's meeting with his confidant had been fairly harried, and despite walking to the park and back he still had several minutes to spare. Inside, he found the young man still at work, several fully occupied whiteboards pushed to the side, and the one he was working on nearly full. Not a single other employee was in sight. Frowning, and without thinking he opened the door and stepped inside.<p>

"Despite what some may have told you, new employees are allowed to take lunch breaks," crooned with an air of casualness that he certainly didn't feel. Inside his head, little "you are going to be sued for sexual harassment" alarms were going off in his head. Edward's back immediately went ramrod straight and all work stopped before he turned slowly. Between the snarl and piercing, narrowed eyes, Roy suddenly felt he had an idea what it was like to be prey.

"What's it to you?" He spit, coming uncrouched from writing.

"It would look very bad if my star scientist were to faint from hunger on his first day. People will say I'm a slavedriver, or maybe that I'm violating child labor laws" he replied with the slightest laugh. The air between them was tense and heavy, but so far he was still alive. Suddenly though, a hand he knew wasn't a hand was lunging towards him and he shut his eyes in anticipation of impact. But, it never came. A loud crinkle to his right made him open his eyes was more and he saw Edward was gripping a brown lunch sack in a death grip. Roy almost laughed again in relief and amusement.

"Go fuck yourself," the blonde hissed, stalking past and being sure to give him a bruising brush with his shoulder. The director was left smirking at the rumpled blonde as he stomped his way out of the lab, then turned his dark eyes to the filled whiteboard and frowned slightly. Wrinkles, which if asked he would adamantly deny existed, creased his forehead as he puzzled over its contents. Several of the diagrams bordered on familiar, but the scribbled labels were indecipherable. Squinting at them, he realized they were written in a language he had seen only once before, scratched into the margins of the journals of the research texts that littered the young man's coffee table. He sighed wearily, raking a well manicured hand through his equally well manicured bangs. Clearly he was going to have to have a talk with the good doctor about the intellectual property policy of the company. He could not see this going especially well.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Thank you, again everyone for your support and especially your reviews. You're my heart and soul especially UP2L8; your continuing and unflagging support has buoyed my spirits through the worst times. Also, holy crap, I've been writing Fever Pitch for two years now. :MIND BLOWN: I know this was a long time coming, but RL is a total bummer. 333

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><p>Apoptosis<p>

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><p>Chapter 5<p>

After their awkward but comparatively civil encounter, Roy found his spirits buoyed somewhat. At least now, he no longer feared that a meeting with the young man would leave him short one extraneous limb or another. His ego, and other anatomy, cringed still at the memory of being lifted and thrown by someone so much smaller, therefore supposedly weaker than himself. Perhaps this was why he found himself postponing and talk with the young doctor regarding the encryption of his research notes.

Fate always was Roy's most fickle mistress, and he was certain that it was through her sinister meddlings that a dreary and very hungover Monday found the always somber faced Riza waiting with a yellow document. Suspicious, he squinted about the office before taking the paper from her and glancing it over.

"Request for disciplinary action?" He muttered, Riza merely nodded short before magicking a tall mug of strong coffee into his hands.

"Dr. Elric is waiting in your office, sir," she added, moving to resume her place behind her desk. In no hurry, he stood, sipping and reading for a few moments before snorting his disbelief , nearly aspirating his drink.

"This is a joke, right?" He waved the document hopefully.

"I believe it would be unkind to keep Dr. Elric waiting longer, sir," she answered without looking up from her computer. With a long, suffering sigh he began the long shuffle to his closed office door. Last night had been a company mixer involving several major donors as well as new talent, such as Edward, and senior scientists from other labs. He had seen the young man there, and last observed him brooding in a corner, clutching desperately at a glass of wine. From what he recalled, he then became distracted by the most coy and delightful young blonde. He couldn't help a satisfied smirk as he remembered waking that morning with a pale, slender arm draped over his waist. Taking a last fortifying gulp of coffee, he entered.

"Good morning, Dr. Elric," he droned, striding around the desk to sit heavily in his creaking leather chair. At the absence of a belligerent tantrum, he looked up curiously. The blonde was looking an uncharacteristic mixture of sullen, disheveled, and fearful. Instead of his trademark ponytail, he had his hair woven into a rather tattered braid. He recognized the shirt and slacks as the ones he had worn to the gala. "Rough night?" He jabbed teasingly. The molten eyes rose up to meet his, hands firmly nested in his lap.

"Am I fired?" Edward asked piteously, nearly a whisper, and Roy couldn't contain his sputtered shock, mid-sip of coffee. He was beginning to think the world was conspiring against his safe consumption of caffeine this morning.

"What? Edward, of course not," he choked. "This is all just a formality. I have to write a report for your file, but you're not fired." The blonde relaxed visibly, even reaching out for his own mug of coffee atop Mustang's desk. Roy took the time to read over the paper once more, before sighing heavily. "So, since this report is rather vague, do you think you could describe the events leading up to your assault on Dr. Dillinger?"

"I wasn't doing anything wrong! I was just talking to some old bat and he grabbed me!" Roy had a suspicion of where this was headed, but opted for discretion.

"He grabbed you?"

"Pervert grabbed my ass, so I decked him," the blonde raged. Roy kept his face very studiously blank.

"Ahh," he replied. To look productive he shuffled some random papers and tapped them on the desk. "And you did nothing to provoke his," he paused, sampling a few words mentally before deciding, "advances?" The director was very familiar with the amorous indiscretions of Dr. Dillinger. It was well known among most of the senior staff, especially those who had to smooth over the complaints and threat of lawsuit. Roy himself had head off the problem once he was promoted by making sure the Dr.'s lab was staffed by men.

"Breathing, I guess," the young man said blandly. Roy struggled to suppress a snort of laughter.

"Yes, that probably was your biggest mistake," he quipped. Edward's gaze was drawn by the large window behind Roy and the man took the time to look over the young man. Between the youthful face, small stature, and long, golden fall of hair, he supposed he could understand how an inebriated man with failing vision could make such a mistake. Roy scribbled his thoughts mindlessly onto the yellow sheet of paper and the blonde squirmed uncomfortably in the silence.

"So, uh, you sure I'm not fired?" Truly, the young man was pathetic. After a moment, which he used to finish writing, he looked up lazily, a roughly shaven cheek propped in his palm.

"Are you going to go around assaulting old men?" He drawled, scribbling in the corner of his calendar.

"Only if they try to cop a feel." Roy appeared to consider this carefully, bouncing his pencil lightly on the desk. Without warning he stood, reaching across the desk to grab what he knew was Ed's false arm, drawing it towards him. Golden eyes stared in confusion as the older man slapped him on the wrist lightly before letting go and sitting once more. It took all of Roy's will power to not keep holding onto that hand, slide his thumb over the false flesh, studying the give and pull.

"Now, before you go, I have something else I'd like to discuss with you," he said, reaching for another thin manila folder and flipping it open. "Dr. Elric, are you familiar with the terms of your contract in regards to intellectual property?" In his periphery Roy saw his posture shift and stiffen.

"Yeah," he started slowly. "I read it before I signed it."

"So you're clear that any and all data you generate and strokes of brilliance you spawn, while credited to you, are owned by the company?"

"Yeah, I don't agree with it, but yeah," the words were slow and careful, gold brows knitted as he struggled to put together where this was going.

"Then, you can understand that it may be a source of contention for not only the company as well as your team, that you write your notes in gibberish," he not so much asked as stated. He leaned back heavily in his chair, dark eyes peering at the blonde over the edge of the folder. The silence surprised him and the man appeared to be grinding his teeth, jaw working and tendon standing out in his neck.

"I'm sorry," he ground out. Roy smirked. "It's out of habit," Ed offered, voice still halting. Roy made an ambiguous sound of acknowledgment as he continued pretending to read his folder. The young man jiggled his knee and rapped his fingers on the arm of the chair to fill another silent void. Roy sighed and lowered the folder, letting it fall heavily to the desk.

"Out of personal curiosity, where did you pick up such a habit?" He drawled, prodding a pencil lazily across the desk. "I don't recall MIT having cryptography as part of their core curriculum." The golden stare fixed on him was flat and unreadable. The dark-haired man quirked an eyebrow in challenge, and he swore he could hear Edward actually growl. He briefly considered the merits of investing in a cattle prod for his own safety. Then the luminous eyes shifted to fix on somewhere down and to the side. His answer could barely be considered a mumble.

"Got tired of people stealing my shit, y'know?" Roy really had no answer to that. He didn't know. His expression must have said everything because the young man continued without any real prompting. "People would come over and say they wanted to hang out and stuff. It was kinda cool at first, cause I'm not that good with people," he rambled. There was another uncomfortable squirm. Roy bit back a dry "No, really?" that begged at the back of his throat. "Then I came back, and caught someone going through my notebook. A whole bunch of them had stolen my ideas for doctoral and research shit." The end of it was bitter and sullen, with a hint of the rage that Roy had already tasted. As he took this in, he stopped prodding the pencil to instead tap his fingers against the hardwood of the desk.

"So you made up your own code?" The golden head bobbed in a quick nod. "Let me guess, based on alchemy symbols?"

"How do you know that?" The question was sharp and full of teeth. Roy would purr if he could, his trademark smirk curling further into smug satisfaction.

"Your brother enlightened me as to your more esoteric interests when we last spoke. I just connected the dots," he drawled tenting his fingers beneath his chin. Those sulfurous eyes fixed on him again, and he had the distinct feeling he was being studied once more by that surprisingly intricate and brilliant brain.

"You must be smarter than you look, old man," Edward grinned, notes of surprise and pleasure accenting his words. Were it not for the old man comment he would be preening at such a compliment.

"First, I'm hardly old. Second, I didn't get my degree out of a cereal box."

"Whatever, you want to come over for dinner sometime? Al said I should ask you," the scientist asked flippantly, kicking his chair back a bit. Meanwhile, Roy's poor, caffeine-deprived brain short circuited trying to process the question.

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><p>Roy was beginning to feel he should put Maes on speed dial as he frantically punched the number as soon as Edward left the office.<p>

"Maes Hughes, HR," the man chirped brightly.

"Maes, you have to help me," he hasped into the phone. He noticed his palms were sweating profusely and he tried to wipe them off on his slacks before picking up a pencil to fidget with.

"Roy, what's wrong?" The tone darkened accordingly, and volume descended to a conspiratory whisper.

"Maes, he invited me to dinner! This can't be good. He's planning something, I know it!"

"Wait, what? Calm down, you're not making sense. Who did what?"

"Elric! I called him in about the fundraiser and he invited me to dinner at his house," he babbled again. Silence waited for him on the other end of the line.

"You do realize you sound insane, right?"

"I'm not crazy! He's planning something. You should've seen his face." Roy's ramblings were met by longer silence ended with a rather heavy sigh.

"Okay, Roy. I've got two solutions for you." Hughes started. Roy could hear the shifting static as Hughe's adjusted the phone, forcing the receiver to rub against his bristled cheek. He made a hasty noise of affirmation. "First, you can hope that you've lost your damn mind and just go. I promise if I don't hear from you later this evening I'll call the cops. Besides, aren't cyborg programmed to protect people and stuff?" The shorter man could feel the pulse of a tension headache beginning over his right eye, humored the man.

"Apparently this one's gone rogue because he threw me out of his house with one arm. " More shifting and rustling and he could hear Elysia's delighted laugh.

"Well, your second option would be," the sound cut abruptly to clattering static and he thought he could hear Maes speaking the background.

"You could hurry up and get a wife so Daddy doesn't have to listen to Uncle Roy be silly!" Elysia clamored over the phone and Roy had to move the phone away from his ear as her speaking degenerated to her own squeals of delight and Maes' enraptured howls of delight. Clearly, this threat was one only he could see. With a hand that he would adamantly deny was shaking, he hung up the phone and picked up a pen, marking the dinner onto his desk calendar.

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><p>It is with no small amount of anxiety that Roy finds himself in the bland hallway outside the Elric apartment. He shuffled restlessly, staring down past the hot loaf of zucchini bread Gracia had pressed upon him, to his flawlessly polished loafers. He popped his heel in and out of his shoe over and over again, recalling how cheerfully the family of three shoved him from their door and into a waiting cab. Traitors, all of them. With a heavy swallow, he tried to recall the sensation of haughty superiority that was so easy to muster anywhere but here. Especially with a tiger maple expanse of desk, the screamed of rank and power, between him and his adversary, it was natural. Here, though, he could too easily recall the sensation of his feet kicking at air while an enraged blonde lifted him by his shirt front.<p>

After what he suspected was an embarrassing length of time, he finally lifted his hand to knock. Before his knuckles even made first contact, the innocuous off-white door swung open to reveal a thin, beaming face.

"Good evening, Director!" Alphonse chirped warmly. The boy had to have been standing there waiting, and this combined with the boy's warm and welcoming disposition made him flush with embarrassment. Dumbly he offered the bread, neatly wrapped in plastic on a decorative plate that no self-respecting bachelor would own. "Oh, thank you! Please come in. Can I get you anything to drink?" The young man shuffled back to make space for Roy to pass and gently shut the door and followed him down the short hallway.

The space was much tidier than he recalled it, and the numerous bookcases were groaning and bowing from their burdens. If he looked closely, he could see that there were still little camps of books around the room. Some tucked snuggly beneath the coffee table, or stacked with some awareness of appearance at the end of the kitchen counter and any empty kitchen shelf. Alphonse waved him to couch as he retrieved a drink for the guest, hand wobbling on the cane at every step. Roy wondered if he should follow the boy and offer to help, but sat down as he was told to. A quick glance to the side revealed that even more texts were creating a makeshift table between the couch and the wall.

"I'm really glad you agreed to come over, Director. I was worried you wouldn't after what happened last time," Alphonse said from the kitchen, his voice carrying through the breakfast nook. Glasses clanked and a sealed door hissed open. "How do you like your scotch, Sir?" The young man's blonde head suddenly appearing at the nook counter. Scotch? The surprise had apparently made way to his face and Alphonse laughed lightly.

"Neat, please," he said slowly, very baffled, and started survey the apartment once more for the more dangerous Elric.

"Brother, will be out shortly. He got a late start to the day and forced him into the shower just before you arrived," he said with all the eeriness of a psychic. He kept his face studiously blank as the young man ambled over with both rocks glasses balanced in one spider-wide palm. While Alphonse, got himself seated, Roy busied himself with pulling unwelcome stray hairs from his dark slacks. To his amusement, they appeared to be equal parts stiff white furs and long silky gold. A glass with a good measure of amber liquid is plunked in front of him, on a coaster and he takes it with a murmur of thanks. He savors the silence along with his fortifying sip. He plucks another golden stand that has clung to his thigh.

"I'm not sure which sheds more, your cat or your brother," he grins a bit, looking up.

"Ed is a bit worse. He's much more difficult to pin down and brush out," he chortles, sipping his own drink. Roy can't help but smile. Perhaps he could run Edward out of the lab and pull in his brother. The other Elric, leans forward and delicately places in drink on the table. It is pale amber and fizzing softly against the icecubes.

"You're not having any?" He lifted up his own glass in question. Alphonse just shakes his pale head.

"I can't drink. But I'm sure Brother will have some. We've been waiting to have a guest and open it," he smiles, leaning back in his chair and looking profoundly comfortable. In the more forbidden part of the home, he can hear a muffled curse and the squeal of metal on metal. They both pointedly ignore it.

"So I understand they two of you are new to the area. Are you enjoying it so far?" Roy found the glass at his lips again.

"I don't get out very often, unfortunately, but the park we go to sometimes is very beautiful! I love how much it rains here. It's all so green. And so far, the food has been very good as well," he babbles, but the tone of his voice tells Roy he shouldn't ask why he stays inside so often.

"Where were you from originally?" He questions gently.

"A small town in central Texas," another dainty sip, even as more bangs come from the recesses of the house. A door slams violently open.

"And stay out you fucking shit machine!" The door slams shut again, and the white cat he remembers from before comes trotting from the hall. It looks especially unimpressed; the tip of its plumed tail swaying gently. Alphonse snickers and the cat takes this as an invitation to circle the coffee table like a fluffy shark. It gives Roy a hearty nuzzling, and covers his pants in a satisfactory quantity of purr before trilling happily and leaping to Alphonse's lap. Roy suspected that Edward and the cat were long term nemeses judging by the amused smirk gracing the hazel-eyed youth's face. His long thin fingers caressed the fur gently, smoothing the errant strands until the feline settled itself with a long, tongue-curling yawn.

"Alphonse, your stupid fucking cat tried to kill me again!" Edward's voice came from the hall, considerably calmer, and sounding less like he would deal physical pain to anything close enough. Alphonse just made a little sound of acknowledgement, crooking a finger to scratch the cat beneath its chin. It began an audible purr, knead the young man's thigh.

"How could you accuse Lord Xerxes of such a thing!" It was without any venom and the cat flopped to it's side, stretching it's limbs impressively. Roy continued to take nervous, and frequent, sips of scotch as he waited for his inevitable doom.

It came quietly, in the form of an Edward dressed casually in slacks and a tanktop, long hair damp and knotted at the nape of his neck. If he was surprised by the man's presence he didn't show more than a pause as he stepped from the hall to sit on the couch beside his brother. The outfit exposed everything except the mechanical juncture of prosthetic to body, and he found himself entranced by the movements of the arm, down to the way it even swayed when he walked. Sitting heavily, he leaned and reached with the prosthetic to steal a sip of his brother's drink. Roy's eyes lingered at the one part that filled him with more horror than fascination. The synthetic skin stretched paper thin, hooked into place by small steal pegs.

"Good evening, Edward. Nice of you to join us," he said coolly, raising the glass again and was chagrined to find it empty. Edward made to move to reply, merely sighed, and crossed his arms across his chest. Again, Mustang found his dark eyes tracing across the shoulder, mentally trying to tear apart whatever magic had been worked. They sat in silence for awhile; Alphonse happily cuddled with King Xerxes, Edward started at Roy and Roy was enamored with Edward's shoulder. Roy shook himself aware again when the shorter young man cleared his through loudly.

"So, let's get this over with. What do you want to know?"


	6. Chapter 6

Apoptosis

The blatant and open invitation left the older man stunned into a silence that he filled with the remains of his glass, finally settling it heavily onto the table. Carefully, he smirked, steadying his voice so it wouldn't waver or slur when he spoke.

"Awfully egotistical of you doctor, to presume you're so intriguing that I'm dying to know the story of your life," he crooned. Edward merely shrugged, unevenly Roy noted and and ambled off to the kitchen after snatching the empty glass from the coffee table. Roy resumed defurring his slacks while Al lavished more attention on the feline who had assumed a less than regal upside-down sprawled position in the young man's lap. The little pink paws were kneading the air rhythmically. Ed returned shortly with two glasses of scotch, one neat and one clinking with ice. The prosthetic arm placed it in front of him, and he found himself listening closely. Faintly, he could hear a whirring and whine above the sound of the purring cat. Edward sat heavily, sprawling much like their pet, legs and arms wide, the very picture of carelessness. They began their staring match again, Edward now fortifying himself with scotch.

"It's called automail," he offered, drinking again. Roy lifted his own glass to keep pace with the elder Elric., keeping silent.

"The arm," he waved it vaguely. Now that he was looking for it, Roy could see the unnatural folding of the skin at the wrist. "A friend of ours that we grew up with designed it."

"It's remarkable," he replied, swallowing heavily around the alcoholic burn. "What company does he work for?"

"She," Alphonse cut in, "and she doesn't work for anyone. Their company is freelance thought they just received the DARPA grant," his voice was filled with an intense pride and affection. Roy filed this away for future reference.

"Yeah, it's some grant given by the Revolutionizing Prosthetics program for breakthrough technology. I'm her guinea pig. She's been making them for me since I was 11," Edward filled in, eyeing Alphonse a bit with annoyance. Roy frowned around the rim of the glass.

"It must be very expensive," he probed carefully. He couldn't shake the feeling that the young man was flagrantly displaying an open and festering wound and despite the lackadaisical attitude, could react accordingly to Roy sticking his dirty fingers in it.

"I dunno, never had to pay for it. Despite how often I get it replaced, they say the data feedback I give them is too valuable to risk losing me as a customer," he shrugged again and frowned at his already empty glass.

"So, how does it work then? Is there any sort of feedback?" Roy knew his curiosity would kill him one day, especially if these brothers were involved. Strange, he remembered there being more in his own glass. Unprompted, Alphonse gently pushed the cat from his lap and rifled in the kitchen while his brother answered.

"Best I can understand, the wires are grafted directly onto the nerve endings and the core of the prosthetic is fused to bone, though they have to distribute the weight because it's really heavy, so some of it extends as far as my ribcage and up to the clavicle," the flesh hand reached up and traced the scar around the pegs. "I get some sense of pressure and distance now, but that's just cause I've had years to get used to it. When I first started it was just as clumsy as any other prosthetic. Now I could write with it if I wanted." Roy watched with alarm as the blonde began to reach for the hem of his tank top, and struggled to stifle a choked protest. Alphonse, unphased, began to amiably poor them each more to drink as he opened another ginger ale for himself. Roy was beginning to suspect that none of this was real and this was just some horrifying surreal and bizarre dream. He was in the apartment of a brilliant, stunning prodigy, who was his employee and currently disrobing, while his brother, who was sweet and gentle to a point that bordered on disturbing poured them both irresponsible quantities of alcohol.

"Right now, they're trying to figure out a better way to anchor the pseudoskin," he continued, his fingers skillfully plucking the fleshy substance from suspension. Roy stared, nearly open-mouthed, as it snapped back from the loss of tension, exposing a gleaming silver joint. For a fraction of a second, the young man looked uncomfortable, misreading his expression.

"I know, it looks really gross, and it's a pain in the ass, especially if I tear it somehow," he murmured and began peeling it down like a glove. Next to his brother, Alphonse had recaptured Lord Xerxes and was playing with his forelegs and clapping his paws together. The cat tipped back his head and gave Roy a plaintively disdainful look. Edward clearing his throat, caught his attention again. The limb was completely exposed and shining stainless steel, the detail was immaculate. Each digit even had a ridge of fingernail. It's owner was now shyly thumbing up around the joint, looking for something before there was a loud hiss and it went dead and limp.

"Here," Edward grated, extending the limb to Roy. Just when he thought it couldn't get any weirder. He took it with great hesitation, fumbling when the weight of it surprised him. He glanced up to see the man looking away and purposefully distracted, face brightly flushed. He studied the limb, uncertain what to do. He had never considered the possible parameters of politeness when it came to examining someone's artificial limb.

Turning it over, the wrist flopped limply and he tipped it to better look at the shoulder port. He had to fight back a strong urge to touch the prongs that protruded, each harboring wiring within the thin metal sheath.

"This really is remarkable," he murmured, peering into the joints and glimpsing the wires and bearings there.

"We'll be sure to pass along your compliments," Alphonse s replied cheerfully.

"She did my leg too," Edward muttered, kicking out what Roy assumed was his artificial one.

"My god, what'd you do to yourself?" Roy blurted, before he could stop himself. Alcohol, it was clearly the fault of the alcohol. In his periphery, he could see Edward's back go rigid and Alphonse still in anticipation of an outburst. Roy instinctively gripped the limb tighter, perhaps he could use it as a weapon if it came to it. A quick glance showed that Alphonse was now frowning slightly and had ceased his toying with the cat and instead hugged it close. Said animal took that moment to yowl piteously in protest of his captivity.

"It was a car wreck," he muttered after a tense silence. Roy looked up at the clinking of glass on glass to see him pouring another. If anyone asked, Roy then drank from his own glass to foster a sense of comraderie. "I was 11 years old. It killed our father and I lost my arm and leg." It was very final, and Roy knew the topic was now dead, no matter how badly was wanted to continue manipulating the metal digits of the finger. Edward graciously took back his arm and with a grimace, forced it back into the hollow of his shoulder. Roy frowned at the blanching of his skin and the slow tense exhale, but it passed quickly.

Roy drank heavily from his tumbler and Alphonse shuffled over to take it from him and disappeared once more into the kitchen. He swallowed heavily and looked back at the young man seated across from him. The anxiety apparently wasn't shared as Edward was busy pulling the synthetic skin back over the artificial limb and hooking it back in place.

"Your friend, who does she work for?" He coughed trying to dispell some of the anxious silence. Those molten eyes snapped back to fix on him, and against his will he found himself shifting back to escape it. The eyes darted away again and a slight fond smile softened the hard-pressed line of his mouth.

"Just herself. She's something else."

Roy couldn't help but smile slightly himself, the tension bleeding away between the scotch and gentle tone. He grinned lasciviously.

"Sounds like it. She your girlfriend?" The reaction was instantaneous and the young man was red-faced, wide-eyed, and sputtering denials. Alphonse interceded, coming to Ed's rescue.

"Winry is like a sister to us. We grew up with her and her Grandmother. Her parents were military physicians and her Grandmother designs prosthetics for veterans. It was really only a matter of time." He smiled warmly, setting a fresh glass on the table along with a varied offering of sandwiches which Ed dove upon like a starving animal. Roy nodded in understanding and couldn't help but find himself reciprocating the smile.

"Actually, sir. I'm surprised you haven't heard the Rockbell name. It's been making waves in bioengineering circles."

"LysoTech is more focused on chemical and genome therapies. Though if your young friend is producing such phenomenal work, perhaps we should consider expanding," he mumbled around a half-chewed bite. Ed snorted loudly but otherwise kept his opinion to himself. Roy watched how the false arm rested easy and natural, wrist limp, where it draped over across his knee.

Alphonse glanced at his brother who rolled his eyes with exaggerated exasperation, but swallowed. Pleased, Al went back to coaxing Lord Xerxes back into his lap.

"If the minor wiring fails it has a chip with back-up algorithms which she bases off data from each wearer. Basically it gets better and better and more and more precise the longer you wear it," his tone was flippant and rattled off like a script. Roy pretended he wasn't dumbstruck but his face was getting harder to control. "I can give you her business number if you want. Can't make her shut up once she gets going though."

"I would like that very much if you don't mind," he said slowly, carefully, as if his lips might betray the way his eyes traced that sinful slope where neck met shoulder. Ed nodded his acknowledgement and sipped at his drink and his eyes darted to a clock and widened.

"Fuck, if we want to eat today we better get started," he said to Alphonse. His feet shuffled around under the table as Alphonse stood once more, dethroning the feline lord who chirped his protest.

"I have it, Brother, you entertain our guest," he smiled, ignoring all protest and left Edward tearing once more at his tattered hem. Seeking new conquest, Xerxes alighted next to him on the couch and began demanding scritches.

"So," Ed started quietly. The Director felt his stomach beginning to tumble end over end and was starting to regret whatever number drink this was. "Where you go to school, Mr. Boss Man?" The tension in his voice lightened towards the end and Roy realized he was actually being offered a lopsided smile.

"My undergrad was at Boston U, got my doctorate at UCLA," he answered primly. The odd eyes narrowed and the grin broadened.

"How long ago was that? A hundred years?" the blonde baited, looking rather pleased with himself. Roy didn't dignify the question with an answer. "So you from Massachusetts?" He continued, looking put out that Roy didn't rise to the challenge. He picked up his own glass, swishing around the liquid before taking gulp.

"Born and raised," he answered and offered no more.

* * *

><p>When Alphonse appeared from the kitchen to announce that dinner was ready. Roy was startled at how much time had passed. Their conversation had flowed easily from a myriad of subjects that ran the gamut of Roy's graduate research, to their favorite late night study haunts in the metro area, and finally venturing into the murky topic of lab ethics. There was no break in Ed's stream of chatter and Al joined in easily as they ate.<p>

Despite his prior inhalation of innumerable sandwiches earlier, Ed consumed dinner like he was deprived and seemed to occasionally dart glances to Al who ate slowly and spartanly, appearing to mostly just be moving food about on the plate. Roy had no difficulty cleaning his own, around the time Ed was halfway through his second helping. He politely wiped his mouth with his napkin and folded it onto the table.

"I'm sorry, may I use your restroom?" He asked. Ed had his mouth half open, but full of food to try and answer, but Al cut him off.

"You'd better use mine, it's cleaner and safer." He teased as Ed pursed his lips with displeasure. "Down the hall, second door on the left." Roy thanked him and wandered off, lingering again on the family photos lining the hall.

Roy was not a fan of snooping and it certainly hadn't been his intention. He'd merely been washing his hands, eyes wandering the knick knacks surrounding the sink when he saw the large amber pill bottles tucked into the corner. He couldn't excuse however, when he lifted the largest one to read the label though he tried to shirk the behavior onto concern. He regretted everything as he read the short generic drug name and it weighed his mouth to a frown.

"Oh, oh my."


End file.
